


Crystalline Heart

by SpaceyDragons (Rexcalibur)



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Ashnard’s A+ Parenting, Dragons, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Fluff, Has this been done yet?, Hurt/Comfort, It probably has been done I haven’t read every work in this darn tag, M/M, Soren-Centric, prince AU, seriously a lot of Hurt/Comfort, spoiling later chapters with these tags, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexcalibur/pseuds/SpaceyDragons
Summary: Ike had always heard tales as a child about princesses locked away in desolated towers, kidnapped by a dragon. And with them, he'd always thought them to be fiction.When the fledgling army is split into two during its trek to Daein's keep, despair quickly sets in for the princess's captured forces, leaving Crimea's future vulnerable to Daein's conquests.That is, until the liberation army's  leader is taken under the wings of Daein's covert prince, who offers him a second chance and a glimmer of hope. Something, ironically, that the prince himself lacks.It doesn't take Ike long to realize the stories are true- and his dear prince wasn't locked away by a dragon... but by the very virtue of what he was.





	1. a frost-burnt netherworld

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! 
> 
> In light of the “Fallen Heroes” banner that was released in FE Heroes a while back, a friend of mine on Instagram and I were talking about the concept of a fallen Soren, which I won’t go into specifics about since it may kill the mood. For now. 
> 
> We decided on the idea of Soren being almost raised to be a feral prince, but defying his father’s will, and that’s how this story was born.
> 
> This hasn’t been proofread or beta read, and I do try to stick as close to canon material as possible! 
> 
> In the future, I’ll be sure to include updates, edits on early chapters, and added tags.

According to the books he'd read over his years, and by living in it himself, Prince Soren had discovered Daein's winters made even the most brutal winters of Crimea, Begnion and the other nations of Tellius simply pale in comparison. Nothing could possibly compete with the violent tempests of the coldest season of the year, which fast approached. 

Even during autumn, Daein's temperatures dropped severely, causing drafts of frigid air to occasionally slip through Nevassa Keep, though it wasn't known for its hospitality in the first place.

The light of day had slowly paled to a dull, black sky, hardly lit by the thin crescent moon above. It was his time to leave.

The mage pulled a cloak over his head, careful to conceal his facial features to go unrecognized. Being caught lurking around at this hour would arouse suspicions, which he couldn't afford. Besides, he had a mission, especially after hearing of the recently quelled rebellion on Crimea's part.

It hadn't taken him long to slip to the dungeon's entrance, thanks to the lack of disturbances. Though musty with cobwebs and dust, the stairs of the southeast tower provided safety from lurking guards and gossiping servants, and thus he used them to his advantage.

Slipping to the gates of the dungeons like a thief in the night, he approached the guard and revealed a small trinket to him: a brass locket with the Daein crest branded onto its surface. 

A gift from his father. One of the few he'd received in his short life. 

Granted, it allowed him easy access to nearly any area in the castle, as well as some form of respect from the guards. An impressive feat in itself, considering the rogues and assassins prowling the the cities tended to be more polite than they were. 

"May I make an inquiry about the Crimean prisoners?" The prince briefly questioned, right to the point, not wishing to waste time. "Did you happen to see what they looked like? Anything strange about their behavior? Anything else important?" 

The guard glared underneath his black helmet, worn and dented with use. "Tell me, why would that be any important to you? You're good as dead in those dungeons, bastard. No different than any of the souls down there."

"I'm sorry, did I not just reveal my identity to you? Or are you so forgetful you can hardly tell?" Soren scoffed, removing his hood without hesitation. "If my locket was nothing to you, perhaps my face will serve in its place as evidence.  
"I am your prince, you ignorant fool- you have no reason to pry into my affairs." He bitterly spat the last few words out, noticing the guard's uncomfortable change in posture.

He stepped back from the heavy iron gate, muttering something along the lines of "demon's eyes" and "dragon-spawn filth."

It wasn't the first time he'd heard those words.

Crude remarks and vile whispers, "dragon scion, half-breed scum, bat out of hell", were muttered behind his back. From birth, he'd been cursed with the bloody mark on his forehead and mixed blood, condemning him to this life of discrimination and misery.

Like a spirit, a wisp of the wind, the mage descended into the labyrinth, surrounded by the pained cries, the muffled moans, and the helpless cries of prisoners new and old. 

Prisoners and hostages were certainly common in Daein- most being thrown in as fighters for the nobles' personal entertainment, others acting as retainers, maids, or playthings to them. If they proved themselves worthy, they could be pulled to court as a soldier.

Most, however, who didn't leave an impression, were simply left to rot without a trace.

The newest haul were Crimea's captured forces, countryside mercenaries and militia fighters hired by their desperate princess who had her head stuck in meaningless hope and delusions.

They'd been lucky to survive even the little time they had, especially without Gallia's rumored aid. A few petty groups of barely trained fighters meant nothing to his father's forces, who could simply crush them as if they were a insects.

Most had unremarkable looks about them, dressed in battered, worn armor and tunics. Though not much different from what Daein's own donned in, they had obviously taken a turn for the worse- especially one who pulled at his bonds with a dogged determination.

He was the leader, perhaps? He would certainly do well. 

Soren once again removed his hood, the larger man's furious azure gaze meeting with his own pensive, scarlet glare. 

"Are you the leader of the Crimean forces, sir?" 

Once again, the blue-eyed man attempted to wriggle free from his restraints. "What does it matter to you?" his gaze snapped up from his struggle. It was hard to imagine them burning into his soul- not when they were that icy blue hue.

"Perhaps I'll make you a deal," Soren's voice did not waver. "if you'll allow me, I have the authority to cut your bonds free. In return, I'll need to ask for some inside intelligence."

"Never. Not to someone like you. You haven't told me your name, let alone your intentions," the taller man seethed, "so how do I put my trust in you?"

Soren gestured to the nearest guard to open the door, once again revealing his locket. "Close it behind me. Reopen it on my command." He ordered, slipping into the cell. 

"Very well," the guard obeyed his command, shutting the door behind him. "Be wary, milord. This one itches for any means of escape."

"Please," Soren spoke in a uncharacteristically gentle tone, only doing so after the guard left. "Let me inspect your wounds... I'm certain you have quite a few, considering how you struggled. I've seen how they treat the prisoners, and..." He huffed, lips barely parted as he uncapped a vulnerary. 

The bluenette stared up at him, eyes telling of an emotion that was an odd mix between comfort and uncertainty.

Ignoring the way the man scrutinized his lithe form, Soren gestured towards his bloody arm. The man moved so he could reach and apply the gelatinous liquid on it. 

Though he tried to mask it, Soren couldn't help but feel a bit of elation when he applied the medicine to his arm- muscular and much bulkier than his own.

"Oh, how rude of me." He realized he'd never asked the other man's name, shifting to work on the back of his neck. "I'd like to know your name. No nicknames or pseudonyms, either. Straight to the point, if you will." 

"Ike." His response was flat, stoic, and blunt just as Soren had requested.

"Just Ike?"

"Yeah. Just Ike."

"My name is-" he paused, taking a minute to breathe in- "my name is Soren, Prince of Daein. Call me Soren, please." 

"Doesn't royalty take up more than one name?"

"Don't worry about it," Soren sighed, not seeming to mind his attitude. "As I asked you previously, Ike, you ar- were the leader of Crimea's liberation forces, yes?" 

Ike remained silent.

Soren stepped in front of him, moving towards the front of the cell and standing over him. "You made me a deal. It would be in your best interest not t-"

"Fine! I was. Happy?"

Soren's voice descended to nothing but a whisper. "Our loathing for my father is mutual, I see. In that case, I'm pleased."

"Come again?" Ike blinked, out of disbelief, if anything.

Soren busies himself with recapping the elixir, a mere distraction. He feels hesitant to give Ike the truth, and besides, if he were to tell and someone overheard, he’d be executed before he could apologize.

“It was-“ 

The mage then doubles over in pain- thanks to the aches in his back, curiously becoming a more common occurrence. This has happened for weeks on end- and no potion Soren can get his hands on has seemed to cure him of it.

Ike’s eyes widen in shock, instinctively, almost, but Soren can’t say why. “I’ll be fine.” He assures the taller man. “This has happened before. Anywho, I’ll hold up my end of the bargain... give me your wrists.”

Shortly after, his hands are cut free (no more, no less, just as Soren promised) and the prince takes his leave, crawling into his tower yet again; still a lost soul, a shadow from the dark and pale moonlight.

When he returns to his quarters, he undoes his tunic, awaiting the sweet release of sleep, when he can escape the harsh reality he lives in. 

Removing his tunic, he shakes his back out, feeling in full every crick in his spine. He stretches out his arms, raising them to the heavens.

His wretched wings spread- concealed away, no more than a secret, just like him.


	2. shelter from the storm

His back felt as if it was breaking-  
No, shattering-  
with every movement he made. 

With his wings concealed into his mage's robes, Soren always wondered why it was so much easier to move without feeling as if his spine was on the verge of fracturing into a million, unsalvageable pieces- though it was not glass, it very well may have been.

Then came the coughing. Rough, audible from at least a dozen feet away. Blood would occasionally spill out of his throat in a worst-case scenario.  
Fortunately, he was able to compose himself. At least for tonight.

No amount of experiments or research he performed could trace the source of his sickness- and that spoke volumes, considering he'd been this way since adolescence. 

Life fleeting, at the young age of-Twelve, was it?  
As far as he remembered, it had been five years that had come and gone since those first fateful days of being pulled down to court. 

In fear of further damaging any bones on his back, Soren regularly slept on his chest, wings folded to allow blankets to rest on his back. 

He'd make a decision in the morning. Too many thoughts clouded his mind, too many to be bothering him- especially at this hour. The prince preferred to use his mind in the mornings, when the wouldn't be burdened by his problems.

———

A knock sounded at his door. 

The prince jolted to a start, caught unaware from staring into space. 

"Enter."

"I was the one who received your request, milord. I'll be your escort to the dungeons."

"Thank you, General Haar. I appreciate the favor," Soren grunted, pulling on the same cloak from two nights ago and making his way to the door, Haar following suit.

Soren had been lucky- very few of Ashnard's soldiers would willingly go anywhere near the Branded prince. Laguz resentment held a strong place in the hearts of Daein citizens- and the Branded were no better off.

In their silent journey to the dungeons, Soren proposed a question.

"You are able to fight when not riding a wyvern, are you?"

"Of course. I wouldn't be serving Daein if I couldn't," Haar replied. "That being said, it's a lot easier to. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing." Soren mumbled, not wanting (or in his mind, needing) to give his answer.

A low, guttural noise sounded from Haar's throat- a chuckle, perhaps? The wyvern knight lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "Prince Soren, it's not hard to tell what your father has put you through- no matter how hard you try to hide it." He gestured to the prince's body. "That being said, I know what you mean. You need all the allies you can get."

‘What your father has put you through.’

What he'd put him through. Haar barely knew the other half of what he'd put Soren through. Abusive, his father certainly was, but he was all that and worse. If the prince told anything about how the king had ravaged his body, his life would be stolen before he could think to apologize.

Despite all that, no matter lackadaisical Haar may always have been, he saw the world just as observantly as the prince himself. His perspective differed from that of some of his father's soldiers. Soren would never acknowledge that out loud, however true that may have been.

He simply replied my making eye contact with Haar and nodding, to inform him of his agreement without letting anything slip. The next few minutes, even the entry to the dungeon, were very silent. 

Upon reaching the cell in which Ike was still locked in, Soren thanked Haar for the escort and dismissed him. 

Better a time than never to execute the plan he'd been formulating. Hopefully a little eloquence could go a long way, but the man he was to deal with was a blunt one. Stoic, closed-minded. Unlikely to be swayed.

"Hello, Commander Ike. I hope you've been treated at least half-decent down here." Soren's tome was flat, per usual, trying to show a sort of disgust for the guards but attempting to keep a calm demeanor. 

Ike stood up in his cell, unrestricted by any chains. As if his height would help him assert any form of dominance. "Prince Sor-"

"No formalities needed." Soren sharply interrupted.

The former inhaled, biting his lower lip in what seemed to be frustration. "...Soren." He quickly corrected himself. "I'm no commander or lord in this place, either. No formalities necessary for me, either."

"Right. How... have they been treating you down here?" 

"Half-decent would be putting it lightly. It's not pretty, but some of my army sounds like they've had it a lot worse."

Soren pursed his lips. "...I see. Have you slept properly, at least? Eaten?" 

"Why are you so concerned about me?"

That's the same tactician who furthered the war, helped in Crimea's conquest-

"I came to strike a deal with you, Ike. If you'll listen, perhaps I can even give you a better life. For now, at least."

Ike crossed his arms, staring Soren dead in his ruby eyes. "I'll hear your deal. Dependent on what it is, don't fully expect me to accept it."

Breathe, Soren, breathe. Gather your courage.

"I was hoping I could take you into the royal house as a retainer. As of late, we- I have suffered a fair amount of hardship-"

Don't mention your father, don't risk it-

"-and I could use whatever strength you can lend me. Think of it as a promotion from being just a common prisoner."

Ike furrowed his brow, giving a defiant blue stare to the prince. "And what will it give me, if anything?"

"Well it's a step up from going to fight in the pits," Soren shrugged, "or, worse, having to serve my father. I’ll get you out of here one day, I’m sure of it.”

Ah, that blue fire in your eyes, Ike.   
Why is it so familiar?

"I have reasons for needing allies. Whatever views you have on the King, be it as a ruler, parent, or anything otherwise..." the prince paused, biting his lip.   
"I'm sure you see him as anything but good. It's the harsh reality of my world, living under his rule-"

"So you need me as your bodyguard, and if I comply, you think I can solve your problems. Do I follow you correctly?" Ike interrupted.

Soren took a deep breath, picking up where he left off. "...if that's how you want to put it. I wouldn't say 'solve all my problems,' but perhaps we can save each other in a way. I get you out of the dungeons, and you'll be my protector for as long as I need."

"And how long will that be?"

"I can't say," Soren's voice took on a wistful tone of sorts. "But do we have a deal or not?"

Ike stayed very quiet for a moment.

Pondering his next course of action.

Unusually quiet, for someone like him.

"If it means I have a shot in the dark at seeing my loved ones again, I'll take up your offer." Ike finally gave in.

Soren's eyes lit up, though the rest of his stoic expression did not waver.  
"I'll be back with someone to unlock your cell. Hold on." 

The prince drifted over to a nearby guard, putting his silent façade back on. "I'm taking the blue-haired one into the royal house as my retainer," he whispered, revealing his locket- his sign of authority. "Unlock his cell, please." 

"Sir, this one is-"

"Unlock his cell, thank you." Soren spoke with a hard tone to his voice and gritted teeth. The guard seemed reluctant- suspicious, even.

Even then, his cell was unlocked nonetheless and his new retainer claimed. 

"First order of business," Soren stated, leading the pair out of the labyrinth called the dungeons, "we're going out to the city. You'll need a weapon, some clothes... I have a few commissions for the local apothecary, and I could use a new staff..." his voice trailed off, and he wondered if Ike was even listening.

Fortunately, the taller man was attentive and a good listener at that. "I would've thought you wouldn't be allowed outside the gates. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you knew a way or two out."

"I'm on... reasonable terms with most of our guards. My father knows nothing of what I do outside the gates, or that I go outside them at all."

And thankfully so. 

The two approached the entry hall of the castle, and slipped out as quietly as possible. Soren led him into a small garden to the side of the castle, desolate in the cold of winter and piled with snow due to its lack of use. Statues and stone benches were scattered throughout, and it was surrounded by a thicket of trees. Soren guided Ike through a path in the nearby woods, one only he knew of, used to sneak out of the castle borders if need be. And only for that purpose.

About a half hour of walking later, the two arrived at their destination, Soren leading the way and Ike following close at his side. 

Standing before them was a cluster of buildings meant to resemble a marketplace, stalls and patrons with dull clothing scattered throughout. Certainly shabbier than any marketplaces Crimea had, but this was Daein- a land where people had to make do with whatever they could get their hands on. 

“Welcome to Nevassa’s resident marketplace.” Soren spread his arms, gesturing to the scene ahead of him. “It’s black market, of sorts. A crossroads for those wishing to survive. Mages, necromancers, thieves, and other strange individuals gather here.”

Ike marveled at the plaza, dreary save for the people and lanterns lighting the scene.

“Well, then,” Soren piped up. “Let’s go. I have two people who are expecting me sooner than later, and I don’t like being late. Stay on your toes.”

—————

Little did the pair know, they had a witness of sorts.

“So he’s still alive. They’re going to be pleased about this.”

And with that, the voice slipped into the shadows once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it’s been a while, huh? I’m bad at writing and updating both, so there’s that! 
> 
> I have a basic storyline for the first few chapters figured out: if all goes according to plan, this should be about 10 chapters, plus an epilogue.
> 
> Anywho, here’s the fun part: explaining my writing.
> 
> Ike: Of course he’d be torn between survival and loyalty, and the like; he’s still got a sense of vengeance towards Daein for... y’know. He still chooses to protect Soren out of hope. That’s he’ll be reunited with his loved ones one day. There’s something about Soren’s nature that Ike senses: he’s cold, but Ike realizes there’s something underlying.
> 
> Soren: Writing his sickness was fun. I usually don’t like it when writers present Soren as a weakling (seriously, he walked across two countries on FOOT as a child), but in this case, I have to and I despise it. Then again, characters suffering is my guilty pleasure, so there’s that. On Ike, Soren definitely felt a familiarity with Ike and knew that he was something worth protecting. This will be built upon later.
> 
> And that’s it on today’s episode of Character Introspection With The Author, or just CIWTA, I guess. I can’t wait to incorporate more characters in, honestly.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for being (hopefully) patient with the update!


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